


Pull The Trigger

by tristinai



Series: Bad Decisions [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bits of fluff, Cheating, Everyone deserves better, Human AU, Implied Breakup, M/M, References to Sex, Sad Ending, gangster au, gangster!Nines, past Convin, reed900
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 07:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai
Summary: A split-second mistake is all it takes for everything to unravel.





	Pull The Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been following this series and commenting! The interest and encouragement has been great and I am so happy that some of you have stuck around! This is the point at which I worry I will lose some of you but fear not: there is more to come, so long as people want to keep reading about these two dorks. Let me know your thoughts. For those who have left comments on the previous parts, I am slowly getting to them. I ended up being more busy than anticipated recently and apologize for the delay.
> 
> Sending lots of love to my dear friend [NixObscura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixObscura/pseuds/NixObscura) for letting me dump all my crazy ideas on her. You know how important your feedback has been and though you have yet to read this part, I hope once you do, you will not murder me. Or, if you do, at least wait until we're in the same time zone again. Not that I am condoning that. I am gonna stop now.
> 
> The tags are spoiler-heavy but you may want to prepare yourself for what comes next. Happy reading!

Soft jazz plays in the swanky lounge of the hotel bar, Gavin tapping his fingers along to the smooth baritone. His Old Fashioned remains mostly untouched, condensation dripping down the sides of the glass. It’s still early in the evening but there are quite a few guests in here, chatting in hushed tones and throwing back drinks. Gavin tries to calm the nervous fluttering in his chest, scanning the room for the man he’s waiting for. But he knows it’s still a good thirty minutes before Nines arrives.

 

[9s July 16 6:14 PM]

_Darling, I am sorry but I am running a bit late._

 

[9s July 16 6:14 PM]

_I should be there by 7 and fully intend on making it up to you ;)_

 

Gavin scrolls through the messages again, his cheeks flushing as he thinks of all the ways he can get Nines to ‘make it up’ to him. Most involve use of the handcuffs he brought along for the occasion, though he’s not sure who should wear them: much as he would love to be bound and bent over, he wonders how it would be if Nines can be persuaded to let Gavin cuff him. A delicious thought, the gangster sprawled beneath him, wrists to the headboard, left to the mercy of Gavin’s lips. Yet he doubts Nines will be up for it since he let Gavin fuck him for the second time a few days ago and he has to be in a particular kind of mood to relinquish some of his control. Not that Nines has to be on top to be calling all the shots.

 

It was actually their post-coital banter from the other day that led to Gavin sitting at this bar tonight.

 

“Six months,” Nines had panted, hooking a leg around Gavin’s hip and tugging him close.

 

Gavin had been gasping to regain his breath and wasn’t quite able to follow the gangster, slinging an arm around him and returning the embrace. His a/c was out and both of them were completely drenched in sweat but regardless of how uncomfortable he felt physically, the mind blowing sex had made it worth it. “Wh-what?”

 

“Six months since I first had you in the warehouse,” Nines elaborated, brushing aside Gavin’s slicked bangs. There was an almost nervous smile on his lips, a hint of trepidation, as he suggested, “Perhaps we should do something special. To celebrate.”

 

And Gavin hadn’t been able to hold back a grin, kissed Nines softly and felt the gangster’s tension ease away in his arms. “Whatcha have in mind, babe?”

 

Fast forward to tonight and Gavin’s sitting at the bar, dressed in a new suit Tina helped him pick out the other day (“Seriously, Gav, if you weren’t with Nick and I was all about the D, I’d be all up on that,” she had told him, winking saucily at him. And fuck, why is it that everyone else but him can fucking wink?) and waiting for his gangster ‘boyfriend’ (and yeah, they’ve never said that word around each other but that’s pretty much what they are and why does it have to make Gavin feel this fucking giddy just thinking about it?) to show up so they can check in together. Nines had went all out, booking one of the more expensive suites in the ritziest hotel in the city, pointedly avoiding the last place they stayed at since that stay had gotten off to a rough start.

 

“Maybe we just have shit luck with hotels,” Gavin had joked.

 

But now that he’s here, he’s determined to make this a weekend they’ll remember. He always has a way of fucking things up, doing or saying the wrong shit. But with Nines, it’s gonna be different.

 

6:34 PM.

 

He sets down his phone and takes a sip of his drink.

 

“Gavin...what are you doing here?”

 

Caught off guard, the detective nearly spits up the sweet whiskey. Lieutenant Anderson peers curiously at him, dressed in his usual attire: a simple suit and crisp dress shirt, though Gavin’s noticed more colorful ties creeping into his wardrobe, no doubt Hank’s influence. He must still be on the clock.

 

“C-Con, wh-what’s up?”

 

Pointing to the opposite end of the lounge, Connor answers, “I was using the restroom. Detective Evans and I received a tip that a person of interest may be in the vicinity. However, I am starting to suspect it was a false lead as we have seen no sign of our target in the last two hours.”

 

A person of interest? Are they tailing Nines?

 

He knows Nines is still the number one suspect for Murphy, even if the DPD has no conclusive evidence thanks to that rookie Collins fucking everything up at the crime scene. Gavin doesn’t know if he should be more pissed off or relieved: if Collins was one of Kamski’s lackeys, good fucking riddance. But the last thing Gavin would have wanted was for Nines to get caught and sent to max.

 

Gavin struggles to hide his panic, setting his glass down hard enough that some of the drink spills over the sides.

 

“We were about to head back to the station. I thought I would pop in and—is that a new phone?”

 

Gavin’s eyes widen. He hastily takes it off the table and shoves it into the pocket of his suit jacket. He doesn’t care how shifty it looks: he doesn’t want Connor to see any message notifications from the only contact saved on it. “No, Con, it’s an old phone. Battery in the other one’s fried: gonna have to get it replaced.”

 

“...weren’t you using your phone today? When I told you to finish up that incident report for the B&E on 16th?”

 

_SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT_

 

Gavin resists the urge to scratch his nose. That’s his tell for when he’s nervous as shit. Instead, he picks at the cuff oh his right sleeve. “Uh...y-yeah. Fucking thing died on me when I was...uh, getting ready to come out.”

 

He can tell Connor’s slightly suspicious, even if the lieutenant doesn’t quite look it. Connor’s always been pretty good at reading him and though they speak with each other less these days, Gavin feels that any time he’s given an excuse for anything, Connor’s become more wary of what he’s been up to.

 

Shit...he needs to get rid of Connor before Nines gets here and the lieutenant puts two and two together.

 

“You are dressed quite...nice. I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

 

A faint blush colors Connor’s cheeks as he fails to discreetly look Gavin up and down. Gavin remembers enough of their arguments over his attire, the few times Connor tried, and failed, to get Gavin to accompany him to some formal shit. Gavin hates being at those things, forced to mingle with whatever rich fuckwads Captain Fowler had to schmooze up to for more department funding, and though Connor had worn a displeased face during those fights, by the time he was heading out the door, dressed for an evening of dining and dancing, Gavin had always pretended not to notice that sad look of disappointment in his ex-partner’s eyes. He had then spent the evenings pretending he didn’t feel guilty as shit for ruining Connor’s hopes at an evening out. And by the last months they were together, Connor stopped putting up a fight whenever they were invited to those events.

 

That should have been one of the many warning signs they had fallen apart.

 

And yet...all it took from Nines was the mention of a night out for Gavin to ‘casually’ drop it in conversation with Tina, knowing she’d take the bait and demand to make him over for his ‘big date’. Gavin ‘grudgingly’ being dragged out for a day of shopping to finally add a few more pieces of clothing to his wardrobe. And Gavin was doing with Nines what he could never bring himself to do with Connor: make that little bit of effort to show that he gives a fuck, that what they have _matters_.

 

Seeing Connor looking at him expectantly, Gavin flushes. “Uh...y-yeah. Date with Nick. S-said he wanted to meet at one of these fancy, uppity bars. You know, for drinks and shit.”

 

“You must really care about him,” Connor says, quietly. Gavin’s not quite sure what to make of the melancholic note in the lieutenant’s voice. But there’s little time to dwell on it before Connor’s giving him a genuine smile. “For what it’s worth, Gav, I’m happy for you.”

 

Heat travels to the tips of Gavin’s ears and he mumbles something incoherently, not even sure how he was trying to answer that. And now it’s awkward as fuck and Connor seems to pick up on that, appearing somewhat sheepish as he makes to exit this conversation.

 

“I should head back. I told Evans...”

 

“Y-yeah. R-right.”

 

“I hope your date goes well, Gav.”

 

But as Connor hastily turns, he bumps the glass tumbler Gavin left on the bar’s edge, spilling the drink all over Gavin’s shirt and pants. Gavin cusses out loud but it’s too fucking late: of course, the one time he puts any effort at all, something has to go to shit.

 

“Gav, I’m so sorry!”

 

“Damnit, Con! I just bought this!”

 

Connor pulls out his handkerchief (and for once, Gavin is grateful the lieutenant still carries those things with him) and begins patting down Gavin’s shirt. There’s at least another twenty minutes until Nines said he’d show up so that’ll give Gavin time to clean himself up, salvage his clothing before the alcohol stains it.

 

...or, so he thought.

 

Time seems to move in slow motion as Gavin sees a handsome, familiar face step into the bar from the hotel entrance. Dressed in a dark suit, hair meticulously slicked back in place, Nines looks so drop dead gorgeous, Gavin literally feels his heart skip. There’s something so unguarded with the way the gangster nervously carries himself, bundle of roses in hand, as if he’s just as worried as Gavin about screwing this night up. Eyes falling to the gift Nines has brought, the detective’s gaze softens as he stares to where the gangster is standing but a few yards behind Connor.

 

There’s no doubt in his mind who his heart belongs to.

 

_It’s all fucking yours_ and the thought leaves a tight sensation in Gavin’s chest, as if he can feel the metaphorical pull of those long fingers squeezing that which he gives eagerly.

 

Nines is glancing anxiously around the room, his eyes not yet finding the detective’s.

 

And that’s when Gavin remembers Connor.

 

“Shit!” he curses.

 

Connor’s eyes widen. “Gav, what’s wrong? Is there something…?”

 

He must notice Gavin staring over his shoulder because that’s when Connor begins to turn his head. And Gavin _panics._ Because Connor can’t know he’s here meeting Nines, can’t know that the reason Gavin’s moved on is most likely the last person Connor would ever want Gavin to be with.

 

So Gavin, in all his stupidity, does the one thing he _knows_ will keep the lieutenant from looking over his shoulder.

 

He grabs Connor by the lapels of his coat and kisses him.

 

The instant their lips meet, Gavin is momentarily lost in the familiarity of it all: the fullness of Connor’s soft lips as they press to his, the musky scent of that cologne he wears, the hands that still against his chest, handkerchief dropping to Gavin’s lap. There was a time when Gavin would have done _anything_ to be here with Connor like this but now that it’s happening, it feels...off. And by the time those insistent hands push at his chest, Connor breaking off the kiss, it sinks in how wrong this is.

 

“Gav...what the **hell** do you think you’re doing?” Connor hisses, his voice vibrating with anger. He tries to keep it lowered but Gavin can see how much of a struggle that is. “What about Nick?”

 

_Who the fuck is Nick?_ Gavin thinks.

 

Oh. Right.

 

He still sees Nines out of his peripheral and knows he needs to buy enough time for Nines to get the hell out of the bar. So Gavin says, hesitantly, “F-fuck him. I...uh...miss you?”

 

Way to sound fucking convincing.

 

“Since _when?!_ ”

 

He takes Connor’s hands in his, hoping it’s enough to keep Connor glaring incredulously at him so Nines can make his exit. “I, uh, have been...thinking. Lately. Bout us...babe. Y-you know, h-how we should go back to how shit was before.”

 

But as Gavin sneaks a glance over Connor’s shoulder, he is shocked by what he sees: there’s a look of absolute devastation on Nines’ face. Though Gavin’s silently begging the gangster to leave before they’re caught, Nines looks so _broken_ , so _betrayed_ that it hits Gavin that being found out is about to become the least of their problems.

 

Nines thinks this is all real.

 

He thinks he walked in on Gavin ‘confessing’ wanting Connor and not him.

 

“Nick?” Nines had said, scrunching his nose. “Really, Gavin? You couldn’t think of anything better?”

 

“Chen put me on the spot. I didn’t exactly have time to message you and be like, ‘Hey, babe. My coworkers wanna know who I’m fucking. What deets should I give them?”

 

“Anything _but_ Nick, preferably.”

 

“Hey, if I play it right, I bet I can convince Chen I said ‘Dick’, not ‘Nick’.”

 

“...that’s a common nickname for ‘Richard’...”

 

“Yeah but it works, because you’re also a huge di—fuck!”

 

And Nines had looked up innocently from where he had bitten Gavin on the hip. Gavin remembers little else of what was said because once Nines put his tongue to work, it became hard to think after that.

 

_No..._

 

The roses fall to the floor as Nines turns on his heels and hastily retreats back into the hotel.

 

Connor rips his hands from Gavin’s grip and it draws Gavin’s eyes back to the lieutenant. He looks angrier than he’s ever seen him and that’s saying a lot since Gavin’s probably the man to go to if one wants tips on how to piss off someone as upbeat as Connor, who never seems to be without a smile. He suddenly realizes that the Stern twins share more than a pout as he’s near ready to piss himself with how fucking terrifying Connor looks.

 

“I don’t understand what has gotten into you,” Connor says, evenly, has to pause to take a steadying breath. His first curl at his sides and Gavin is partly surprised Connor hasn’t decked him yet for what he just pulled. “First, you’ve never called me ‘babe’ before and I highly recommend you _stop_ before you make a habit of it. And second, I thought we dealt with this last year, Gav. What the hell am I supposed to tell _my husband_ when I get home tonight?”

 

Gavin opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. “Con, look, I-I’m sor—”

 

“No. You know what, Gav? I don’t have time for you to drag me into whatever commitment-panic you’re probably having,” Connor cuts him off, viciously. “God knows how many times you put me through _that_ when we were together. I’m so angry, I can’t even look at you right now!”

 

Gavin feels ice cold as Connor reprimands him, stares in disbelief at the spot where Nines had been standing. He can’t get that look on Nines face out of his mind, can’t bury the guilt that makes him feel as if his insides are being ripped apart by crows. What’s worse is knowing that he’s the one who made Nines look like that, after the big fucking show he made of Nines simply flirting with other people last month.

 

_What the fuck was I thinking?!_

 

“I imagine you and Nick have _a lot_ to talk about,” Connor says, turning to leave. He doesn’t bother taking back his handkerchief. “But a word of advice: whatever issues you’re having, discuss it with _him_ and stop projecting them onto _me_.”

 

Almost as an afterthought, he adds, with no attempt at sincerity, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

 

And Connor heads as quickly as he can towards the street exit of the bar, the opposite way Nines had gone.

 

For a moment, Gavin lets the shame and hysteria settle over him, the magnitude of what he’s just done. But he’s barely processed much else beyond _I hurt Nines_ before he’s scrambling off the stool, gives zero fucks that it looks like he pissed himself in his navy blue dress pants as he heads towards the inside of the hotel.

 

The lobby is about as bustling as one can expect for a Saturday night, people waiting to check in and others crowding around the service desk for assistance. Gavin looks hastily around, tries to catch sight of Nines, who easily has at least some inches of height on most people but it’s with sinking dread that he begins to think Nines is no longer here.

 

Rushing towards the entrance doors, he doesn’t apologize as he bumps into other guests or receives a frown from one of the bell hops holding the door open for him. Taking out his burner phone, he dials Nines’ cell as he paces on the sidewalk outside, willing Nines to pick up. His heart is hammering in his chest as it rings...and rings...and rings…

 

_C’mon, babe, c’mon. Please, please, please answer…_

 

When it stops ringing, he starts again. And does it again. And then again.

 

By the fifth time he’s dialed Nines, he notices something not far from where he’s been pacing. He crouches down, heart plummeting, as he picks up the smashed phone. Pieces of it are scattered across the cement and it looks as if the device was broken in a fit of rage.

 

Gavin’s seen it in Nines’ hand enough times to know this is the matching burner phone the gangster uses.

 

“Babe, no,” Gavin whispers, feeling his vision swim.

 

He pockets it though he knows it no longer matters: unless Nines wants to see him, there’s no way Gavin can find him. He doesn’t know where Nines lives, not even sure where the gangster would go if he wants to cool off. They’ve always been discreet, mostly hung around at Gavin’s because that was the one place they had the most privacy. Gavin always thought he was being smart by making it a point to not know anything Nines does when they are not together but now he can’t even think of a fucking place Nines would go to get a drink.

 

Swiping a hand across his eyes, he heads back into the hotel. It’s a long shot but he figures that if he checks into their room eventually Nines will come back and yell at him and tell him how much of a fucking scumbag he is and then Gavin can explain what the fuck he’d been thinking and apologize until his throat is hoarse and beg Nines to forgive him, to not throw away what they have all because Gavin’s too fucking stupid to not fuck shit up the one night he promised himself he wouldn’t.

 

So for the next half hour, he impatiently waits in line, snaps at the front desk associate for the room key, and barely mutters a ‘Thanks’ before he’s heading for the elevators. Before reaching them, he quickly pops into the bar and sees that someone had been kind enough to set side the discarded roses on the counter. His eyes water once more as he takes them and makes his way to the suite and it’s by some miracle he doesn’t break down in the elevator, each passing moment causing him to lose more of that thin hope he clings to.

 

_Don’t fucking leave it like this_

 

Once he makes it into the suite, the sight that greets him has the tears slipping freely: soft music plays in the background, the low, romantic lighting adding to the intimate ambiance of the room. A few candles burn on the table in the sitting room, a bottle of champagne set in a bucket of ice, and a platter of fruits and cheeses sitting untouched on the table.

 

Gavin drops to his knees in front of it, tears dripping off his chin, as he realizes Nines must have done this earlier in the day, had wanted to surprise him.

 

A single bullet and a card rest in the middle of the table. With trembling fingers, Gavin takes the card and opens it.

 

_Darling,_

 

_You must forgive my sentimentality. I thought to mark the occasion with a reminder of what brought us to this point._

 

_9s_

 

The bullet from the warehouse.

 

Nines kept it.

 

He sets the card back down, adds the bouquet of roses to the table. His heart feels heavy as he reaches for the bullet, takes a shaky breath.

 

“Nines, babe, I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

 

He swipes at his tears but it only makes them fall faster.

 

With the room awash in watery hues of golden candlelight, he sits on the edge of the couch, rolling the bullet in his palms.

 

Nines _will_ come back. He has to. And then, Gavin can explain everything.

 

So he waits.

 

...and waits…

 

...and waits…

 

…

 

..

 

.

 

Nines never shows up.


End file.
